


Will Ye Go, Lassie, Go?

by Lucky107



Series: A Red, Red Rose [6]
Category: Hell on Wheels (TV)
Genre: 19th Century, Friendship, Gen, Nurse - Freeform, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, unlikely friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 17:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9501650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucky107/pseuds/Lucky107
Summary: The tension is so thick it cuts like butter.[Season 2]





	

**Author's Note:**

> The Wild Mountain Thyme - Ronan Keating - 2009

The tension is so thick it cuts like butter.

"Poultice."  Bonnie Mae reaches out an expectant hand without glancing up from her hasty needlework.  With the sheer number of casualties coming in from the train trestle, there simply isn't time to delay.  "Eva, I said—"

"—poultice," Eva finishes, pressing the fresh mulch bandage into Bonnie's hand.  After wiping her hands on her filthy apron, she runs her arm across her forehead in an effort to brush the hair from her eyes.  No matter how many men they patch up, the queue never gets any shorter.  "I hear ya just fine, Bonnie.  A word when you finish up?"

Despite her obvious hesitation, Bonnie finishes the last of her stitches before following Eva out of the church tent with a cautious inquiry.  "What is it?"

" _You_ ," Eva says with a chuckle.  "Last time we had a crisis, you were nowhere to be found.  But I knew you had it in you, Miss Bonnie Mae - you _are_ capable.  I won't press you to talk about what happened with Mr. Van der Meulen, but... what's changed?"

Bonnie just shrugs her shoulders anticlimactically.  "Dunno."

"Well, 'you're doin' real good here' is all I'm sayin'," Eva concludes, placing a hand on Bonnie's shoulder to guide her back into the tent.  "It's good to have you back."

\- - -

_Three weeks prior..._

"Miss!"  A distinct panic in the voice that calls out is the only thing that makes Bonnie Mae stop, turning to face the stranger.  But there are three strangers at her back and one of them is hardly fit enough to stand on his own two feet.  "Miss, please!  You have to help him - there's been trouble!"

'Have to' is debatable given that Bonnie hasn't set foot in the infirmary since her return, but she recognizes the ox of a man and that sways her opinion on the matter.  "Get 'im into the sick tent an' I'll have a look."

Psalms Jackson.

The men accompanying him manage to get her patient to sit down on the cot, but he sure as hell won't roll over for Bonnie.  He's uncooperative from the minute his friends leave and she can't fault him for that.  Still, she does her best to inspect the facial region for obvious signs of trauma.  "Mind tellin' me what happened?"

Past the mud and the blood caked to his skin, there's nothing of concern and so Bonnie scales her way down her patient in logical steps.  Mild bruising around the neck indicates an attempted strangulation, but there's no wheezing or rasping.  No external bleeding is visible in the torso region and there are no obvious signs of punctures, but a very prominent bite lights up his left forearm.  The skin is broken, but the bleeding is minor.

Just as she switches her attention to the right arm, the first fit sets in; Psalms coughs into his fist as if he's choking before he doubles over into the empty cot.

He's babying his abdomen.

Bonnie waits out the worst of it patiently before asking once again, "What _happened_ , Mr. Jackson?"

All she receives in response is a cold stare, but his full lips and strong chin are smeared with blood.  That mess wasn't present when he came in, so it must have come from the coughing - a sure indication of internal bleeding.

"Christ," she whispers, fleeing to raid the medical cabinet.  There must be a reasonably fresh nettle infusion handy somewhere in case of internal bleeding—

The sound of the cot springs releasing indicates her patient is on the move and when she turns around she's not expecting to be greeted by his retreating back.  He's a stubborn case, she'll give him that, but he's being awful reckless.  She chases him right out of the sick tent in earnest.  "Wait!  Mr. Jackson, _please_.  That blood's comin' from the inside an' I can't tell just by lookin' how bad it is.  You gotta at least take this."

Bonnie Mae presses the jar of swimming herb mulch into his hand and Psalms asks, "You want me to _drink_ this?"

"That's right," she says matter-of-fact.  "An' I want you to check back with in at my tent first thing in the mornin' to make sure that bleedin' don't worsen.  You don't come to me an' I'll be forced to come to you."

Psalms offers Bonnie a half-smile as he studies the infusion.  "Thanks, Doc."


End file.
